The Rain
by emmabirdy
Summary: "Ah, rain. He let it drip through sand-colored hair, through his eyelashes, not really minding all the water. He had turned up the collar of his red raincoat, of course, but it did little to shelter his face. The sky was the plainest sort of gray, just past white, peaceful." Random one-shot based around the rain and a feeling of neutrality. Slight UKUS


Ah, rain. He let it drip through sand-colored hair, through his eyelashes, not really minding all the water. He had turned up the collar of his red raincoat, of course, but it did little to shelter his face. The sky was the plainest sort of gray, just past white, peaceful. He stared at the streetlight, which still ticked and sat without changing.

When it rains, no one wants to walk outside, of course, only the few health nuts that feel a need to jog in any sort of weather. The usually crammed sidewalks were devoid of anyone and anything. He stood alone at his street corner, waiting for the light to change, not lonely without feeling quite content.

He closed his eyes, until he became dimly aware of footsteps, running. Someone wearing big shoes, from the sound of it. He knew that erratic jogging rhythm, but his mind dismissed it as implausible that he should meet that person right then. Just another soaking stranger out for a bit of exercise, clearly. He was quite willing to believe this until of course a familiar voice beside him stated loudly, "You're wet."

His eyes flew open again. "Very observant, aren't we?"

"Why don't you carry an umbrella or something? This is England here." He laughed at his own joke.

"I rather do not mind getting wet sometimes."

He tried to step further away from his new companion, but Alfred simply stepped closer and closer to tuck him under his own umbrella. It was sky blue, a completely brilliant shade, the color that the sky turns only once or twice a year and the color of Alfred's eyes. Arthur had always wanted to bottle up that color because he sometimes forgot what it looked like, but looking at pictures didn't give the same joyful feeling in his heart that he felt on a beautiful summer's day (or, he admitted, when he looked into Alfred's eyes).

"Researchers from _my_ country say that rain these days is very polluted. You should be careful with toxic waste and stuff." He smirked down at Arthur, clearly looking for approval.

"And researchers from _my_ country say that you're a prat." He did not feel social today. He frowned and shook water from his hair.

Alfred pouted. Arthur turned away. "The rain is not all bad. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't."

"It was raining that day here…" he trailed off. "But yeah, um. I remember watching the dogwood blossoms fall in the rain. With you. A long time ago, from out the window, and then I'd go collect the wet ones and put them in your suits. Don't you remember that?"

"Maybe." Arthur shrugged. He knew that would deal a blow. "You sound like a sentimental old fool."

"I'm almost as bad as you, then."

"Almost," he said, with a humorless laugh. The streetlight, forgotten, had already gone from green to red again.

"What are you even doing here?" Arthur asked finally. He had been avoiding the question because much as he complained, he wanted Alfred's company, and that suggested that they should keep on their separate paths as they had been going.

"The conference is literally a block away. I was just going to get some lunch. Besides, you're someone to talk to."

"Why me? Weren't there others at the conference?" He was very aware all of a sudden about how close they stood now, elbows nearly touching. He wished he could hide himself away in a corner or at least put some space between himself and Alfred, but there is not much space under even a large umbrella.

"'cause, you're my friend, I guess." The statement was flippant.

"Well, uh, thanks. For the umbrella, of course." That was all he was going to say. Friend was a not-bad word. Friend was not a word that cried out in joy, like…other things that he'd given up even saying to himself, but neither was it a word like _enemy_, that tasted in your mouth like the dregs of a cup of burnt black coffee.

Friend was a neutral word, as blank and open as the sky.

The light turned green again. "Have a nice lunch."

"See you later!"

He felt the absence of the umbrella over his head as Alfred jogged away. He turned his back on the splash of brilliant blue and began to walk home. He debated laughing or crying, but was unsure of which to indulge in, so he decided to keep a blank expression, his mouth in the slightest frown, just like he always had done, and continued on his way.

* * *

A/N: Don't really know what possessed me to write this a week ago at 1AM. I'm sick of the rain being used as an awful metaphor for angst, so I wanted something with it that was a little happier, but the rain isn't really happy, so it's...neutral. inspiration, woo.

ESYT should be updated by tomorrow!


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